


From My Window

by Layneee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hunters, Awkward Flirting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, But They're All Cool About It, Coming Untouched, Drunkenness, Fluff, Good Guy Lucifer, I Don't Care About Dean's Job, Kickboxer Castiel, M/M, Mention of Minor Castiel/Lucifer, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Rimming, Tattoo Artist Castiel, Tattooed Castiel, Three Date Rule, Top Dean, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3442244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layneee/pseuds/Layneee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you asked Dean Winchester what the best thing about his new apartment was, do you know what he'd say?</p><p>It's the view. </p><p>----------</p><p>Where Dean's hot new neighbor across the street awakens a new kink inside Dean. And then he goes and meets the guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean’s new apartment is a cozy two bedroom one bath with hardwood floors and an updated kitchen that is currently littered with unopened boxes. That’s where Dean sits now, shifting his gaze between the stack of boxes and his fridge (where he knows there is a fresh six pack of beer). Dean groans and rubs a palm down his face, scratching the stubble on his jaw. His phone chooses that moment to vibrate obnoxiously on the counter and Dean grabs it before it can annoy him any more.

He unlocks his phone and opens a new message from his younger brother, Sam.

A laugh bubbles it’s way out of his throat and he types out a quick reply.

It’s radio silence after that, and Dean pulls the closest box towards him and rips off the tape with a _shiick_.

* * *

By noon, Dean has powered through most of the kitchen and is taking a much deserved break. His new home has a small patio that looks across the street below and Dean knows that the views in the evenings will be worth the extra money. The weather’s pleasant, with a cloud-free sky and a slight breeze so Dean moves towards the door.

Absentmindedly Dean’s eyes scan the building across the street that mirrors his own. He can’t see much, and he doesn’t expect to. Then suddenly his eyes fall on a window directly across from his own.

Dean normally isn’t the kind of man to snoop, but he can't really help himself in this instant. The dark haired man in the apartment looks to be doing some spring cleaning. He’s wearing loose fitting lounge pants without a shirt as he runs a vacuum cleaner across the floor. Dean can’t hear the music the man is listening to, the only evidence of it is the way the man swings his hips to the beat. Every once in a while he pushes his vacuum away from his body, spins, and pulls the machine back by the cord.

When he moves, Dean can see splotches of color cover his entire back and parts of his arms. Tattoos. It’s all very attractive and dorkily adorable. Dean thinks watch him all day. Then another man enters the room in a similar state of undress and kisses the brunette on the lips.

Dean leaps back from the window and forces himself to continue unpacking.

* * *

Sam, as promised, shows up after his days classes with a large pizza in his hands and a fifth of whiskey under his arm. The bottle of amber liquid has a big red bow on the neck, and he presents it to his older brother with a fond smile.

“The place looks nice, Dean,” he comments as he walks through the small space. Dean had kept his word and unpacked the kitchen, as well as the other boxes that he’d brought from his old place. It’s still messy and unorganized, but at least he can see his things and begin to think about where they could go.

“Thanks, Sammy. I’m thinkin’ it’s not too shabby.” Dean places the bottle of liquor on the kitchen counter and pulls two beers out of the fridge. He offers one to Sam and they cheer with the brown bottles. “Now, are you going to help me figure out where to put my shit or not?”

Sam laughs, but helps in the end.

* * *

The window two to the right of the living room is the man’s bedroom.

It’s not that Dean watches constantly. It’s just that his favorite place to drink his morning coffee is on his patio, and that just happens to face the man’s building. So sue him.

In the couple of weeks since Dean moved in, he has noticed a few things about the man across the street. One, the blond from that first day isn’t a permanent feature. He seems to breeze in and out of the other man’s life randomly. Dean doesn’t acknowledge how much better that makes him feel. Two, the man keeps strange work hours. He wakes early, but doesn’t seem to have to leave for work until much later. He stays gone until late into the night, and generally crashes into his home looking exhausted. Dean hasn’t even begun to think about what the man does. Three, and possibly the most frustrating point, he doesn’t seem to realize that people can see into his home. He has blinds, but he tends not to use them. He climbs from bed in the morning, wearing a pair of tight boxer briefs, scratches at his stomach, and then just whips them off before disappearing into his bathroom.

The few caught glimpses of the others man’s ass has had Dean flushing down to his toes.

* * *

The apartment is bumping.

Once Dean had gotten himself settled, the first thing on his to-do list was to throw a killer party.

It wasn’t hard to get going. Dean just had to call her brother, his best friend Jo, and the boys from the office and _boom_. Party.

Luckily, Dean had the presence of mind to warn his neighbors of the event and make sure they knew they were welcome. So far, nobody has complained, and everyone is happy.

Dean’s sipping on a beer and chatting office politics with Victor and Benny. The three of them started as analysts at Devereaux Computers at the same time, and had used each other to get through the grueling first year. The job wasn’t the most exciting, but Dean was good at it, and it payed enough to help with Sam’s schooling.

Benny and Victor have somehow gotten onto the topic of Jo, and Dean rolls his eyes for the millionth time. He should have never introduce them to the young Harvelle. Ever since they have been arguing over who deserved her affection more. That was a year ago, and they’ve yet to decide on a victor. Dean tries to make sure Jo never finds out, because she would definitely castrate all three of them. Which Dean doesn’t think is really fair, for him at least.

The woman herself was standing over by the window and sipping beer from a red solo cup. She must sense his eyes on her, and turns to catch his gaze. With a small head nod she beckons him over.

Dean smiles at his friends and excuses himself. Slowly he meanders through the crowd, saying hello to those he passes. Once he makes it to her side, his beer is empty. She hands over her cup in solidarity and he takes a sip.

“Nice party,” Jo says casually as he hands her drink back over. “But I have a question for you.”

Dean sets his bottle down on the nearest bookshelf and crosses his free arms over his chest and leans with his hip against the railing. “Shoot.”

Jo blushes just slightly and clears her throat. “Did you know you can watch your neighbor do shirtless pull-ups from here?”

“What?” Dean spins and his jaw drops open.

The man across the road is indeed shirtless again, only this time what he’s doing is much more interesting than cleaning dust bunnies. He has attached a bar across the open doorway of his closet and is pulling his sweat-soaked-tattoo’d body up. And down. Up and down.

Dean knows he’s gaping, but it looks like Jo is right there with him. He’s lucky his friends know he bats for both teams, ‘cause there’s no way he could ignore this if he tried.

“Is he always so,” Jo trails off and licks her lips, “accessible?”

“If you’re asking ‘does he close his blinds?’ the answer is, no,” Dean tells her as he leans forward on the railing. He can just make out the sight of dark hair on the man’s belly, and it trails down to the waistline of his low slung work-out shorts.

“You are one lucky boy,” Jo says almost jealously.

“Mmm,” Dean groans as the man drops down and rubs a towel against his chest and stomach. If possible, he pushes the shorts lower, and Dean licks his lips.

“What are you two looking at?” Sam questions with a chuckle as he walks onto the deck. “Is there a flock of bi- holy shit! You perverts!”

Dean and Jo spin lightning fast and stand shoulder to shoulder in front of Sam. Too bad his freakish height lets him see right over their heads. Dean really hopes he doesn’t miss anything good while trying to act embarrassed. ‘Cause he’s not. He would watch that gorgeous man all day if he could.

Jo recovers first, and crosses her arms, “You just don’t appreciate the male form, Sam.”

Sam sputters and his eyes dart over their shoulders a few times. His face gets beet red, and Dean thinks ‘screw it’ and turns back around. The sight of the man’s tight bare ass disappearing into his bathroom is worth the smack he get’s on the back of his head from Sam.

“God, Dean. Voyeurism, really?” Sam says through a groan. “Actually, I don’t want to know.”

Then he’s gone, and Jo is looking over the balcony with him once more.

They don’t stay there much longer, and eventually rejoin the party.

By the end of the night Sam and Jessica are passed out in his spare room, Jo has left with Benny _and_ Victor, and Dean is fast asleep in the living room thinking of a party well thrown but wishing it could have had just one more guest.

* * *

Dean races out of his apartment, knowing he’ll be late for work if he doesn’t catch a taxi STAT. Why, today of all days, did he have to loan his Baby out to Sam? Next time his little brother wants to take his girl on a romantic drive in the country he’s gonna have to use his own ride, goddammit.

Stopped right outside his building is an idling yellow and black checkered Prius, and Dean thanks his lucky stars. Without much (or any) thought he yanks open the passenger side door and plops his ass into the seat.

He lets out a sigh of relief and runs a hand through his hair.

“Hello,” a voice intones from beside him and Dean damn near shits his pants.

It hadn’t even occurred to him that someone could have already claimed the cab, and he wants to bury his head in sand he’s so mortified. Instead he buries his head in his hands and groans. “Fuck. This is your cab, isn’t it?” His words are mumbled into the skin of his palms, but the man seems to be able to understand him fine.

“Well, yes, but it seems you need it quite badly. Where are you headed?” The man asks. After a beat he adds, “I’m not opposed to sharing.”

Dean lets out a pleased breath and turns to thank the nice man, and whatever words he means to say die in his throat. Instead all he can exclaim is, “it’s you!”

It’s him! The man from across the street. Oh wow, Dean is so fucked. Up close he can tell that the dark hair is actually brown, not black, and seems to stick up with no regard for gravity. His bedroom eyes (yes, bedroom eyes, because apparently Dean’s been reading Jo’s trashy novels through osmosis or some shit) are a brilliant blue that makes Dean want to say ‘fuck it’ and throw his shoes in a lake, or something.

“Me?” The man asks with a furrowed brow on his handsome, handsome face. And damn, his voice is something that Dean will never be able to replicate in his fantasies (not that he won’t try tonight and every free moment until then).

Dean couldn’t stop staring, and could feel the cabbie’s irritation. “Yeah, you! Uh-huh, I mean, don’t I know you?”

The man’s brows pull down deeper and he shakes his head. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“Yeah! From the- from the-” Dean scans the street quickly and blurts out, “Frozen yogurt! I have definitely seen you at the frozen yogurt- uh- place.”

“Frozen yogurt?” The man is starting to look suspicious now, but Dean powers on.

“Totally. I mean, I’m not gonna judge you on your taste in frozen treats, dude. Even if I’m a good ole’ fashioned slow churned vanilla man myself. Anyway, where you headed?” Dean can feel the blush rise on his cheeks before he can stop himself. Frozen yogurt? Really? Fuck. And slow churned? God, but Dean would slow churn this man all night. And _that_ makes the blush spread down to his goddamn belly.

A small, almost undetectable smile slides onto the man’s (sinful, cock-sucking) lips and Dean has to pinch his thigh to get his downstairs friend under control. “I’m heading downtown, third and Liberty.”

“Cool, cool. Same, I guess. My work’s at eighth and Preston,” Dean tells the other man.

Without a word the cabbie pulls away from the curb, and heads in the direction of downtown. “So- uh,” Dean trails off, because he doesn’t know the other guys name. Would it be weird to ask? They are just sharing a cab. It’s not like this guy knows that he’s opened up some weird voyeuristic kink inside Dean. Oh shit. What if he does? What if he is some kind of X-Man and knows all the hanky-panky that he and Dean have done in his head?

“Castiel.”

What? When did he start talking again?

“Huh?” Dean grunts like the caveman he apparently is. “My name is Castiel. What’s yours?” The guy, Castiel, holds out a hand across the backseat.

Dean takes it with a hand that is middle school dance level of sweaty, and prays that he guy has some kind of nerve damage and can’t feel it. “I’m Dean.”

The two of them fall into a sort of silence that would would expect from two strangers, and they reach Castiel’s stop sooner than Dean would have liked. The other man reaches down into the footwell and pulls out a small metal case. With a furrowed brow Dean looks outside and all he can see is a dark storefront. In the window is a pale blue light with an H.I. surrounded by angel wings. Dean finds himself wanting to ask Castiel all kinds of questions, but is halted when Castiel moves to climb out of the cab.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Dean. I’m sure we’ll see each other again,” Castiel says in goodbye and closes the door, pausing to hand the driver a twenty dollar bill.

Dean throws himself towards the opposite side of the cab so fast his pants squeak on the leather. He rolls down the window, calling through the gap as soon as he’s able. “Wait, wait!”

Castiel turns and raises a brow at the spaz still in the cab.

“Let’s go out! Drinks! Or dinner. Whatever. Or not. You know, as,” he gestures between the two of them pitifully. “As human beings trying to make it on this planet we call earth. Or maybe you don’t. Call it earth, I mean.”

Before he can make an even _bigger_ fool of himself Castiel breaks his train of thought with a loud laugh. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a worn, leather wallet. From within it’s folds he extracts a business card. He passes it towards Dean, and barely manages to speak through his giggles. “Call me. I like to have drinks or dinner or whatever as human beings trying to make it on planet earth.”

Then he’s gone, and Dean is left red-faced with a cab driver that is trying and failing to hold in his own laughter.

“That was velvety smooth,” he says over his face with faux-sincerity.

Dean just glares at the man in the rearview mirror.

* * *

The card is small, and a heathered gray color. It reads Castiel Warner, Heavenly Ink Tattoo, with a phone number beneath.

Dean can barely get his cellphone out fast enough. He presses his speed dial ‘3’ and thankfully Jo is prompt, answering on the second ring.

“ _Hey, Winchester. What’s up?_ ” Jo’s voice sounds happy on the other end of the line. It seems like Victor and Benny have worked out a good thing with her. Good for them, Dean thinks.

“You will not believe what fucking happened to me!” Dean gushes. He can hear the cabby huff, but ignores it.

“ _What?_ ” Jo asks eagerly.

“His name is Castiel,” Dean tells her. He looks down at the card, not believing it’s authenticity.

“ _Who?_ ” She sounds intrigued, and Dean cannot wait to tell her his good news.

“The guy from across the street!” He spills.

Jo gasps and after a quick, “tell me everything!” he does. He leaves out some bumbling, and colors himself as a little more suave, but for the most part he sticks to the truth. He has to hush the cabbie a few times, but whatever.

“ _Are you going to call him?_ ” Jo asks once Dean is finished regaling his tale.

“Well obviously, but I gotta wait like three days or some shit,” Dean explains as he hops out of the cab and hands the driver another twenty dollar bill. The man gives him a salute, which Dean mirrors, and pulls away from the curb.

He can hear Jo scoff on the other end of the phone. “ _Well that’s horse shit,_ ” she says frankly. “ _I say you text him sooner rather than later. Actually, you better do it today. And I’ll know. I have eyes everywhere._ ”

Dean groans. Why did he tell her again? “You mean you’re gonna sic Victor and Benny on me?”

“ _Pretty much. Let me know how it goes!_ ” And then she hangs up.

Dean huffs and slides his phone into his pocket, grumbling about pushy blonds as he climbs the stairs to the fourth floor. Why the boss refuses to install an elevator, Dean will never know. He’s huffing and puffing by the time he makes it to his office and two grinning faces meet him there.

“She got to you already? Damn, your girlfriend works fast,” he swears. With more force than necessary, Dean strips his jacket and falls into his chair.

“If it’s any consolation, brother, we agree with Jo on this one,” Benny comments from his seat. Beside him Victor is nodding his head.

“If you go ahead and text him right now, we’ll even buy you lunch,” Victor adds.

Dean is about to open his mouth to protest, because he’s not that easily swayed, but Benny beats him to it. “What’d’ya say to burgers from that nice place on second?”

Fuck them, they know that’s Dean’s weakness.

“Fine,” Dean growls, mostly to hide the giddy nervousness in his gut.

Dean takes one look at the two men in front of him, both giving him encouraging (if a little manic) smiles and presses send. They both grin wider and break into applause.

“Yeah, yeah, real funny. Let’s just get to work,” Dean grumbles.

Not a minute later his phone buzzes on his desk and Dean picks it up like it may disappear. He picks it up (with totally not shaking fingers) and swipes the screen to open his new message.

Dean gulps and looks up to Benny and Victor for help. “Where the hell is Fourchettes?”

Benny smiles warmly at him, totally unheeding of his panic, the dick. “It’s that new French place on Park. I heard it’s damn delicious.”

“I can’t do French food!” Dean does not squeal, but he does clutch the phone to his chest like a set of pearls.

“Yes you can, Dean,” Victor says soothingly. “It’s not that fancy, no tablecloths or anything.”

Oh. Well, that makes Dean feel a little bit better. He takes a deep breath, and types out a reply.

He places his phone down delicately, like any distress would cause it to not send his message and turns to his friends. “What the fuck am I supposed to wear?”

* * *

The guys are right, for the most part. The restaurant, while nice, isn’t garish or overwhelming. It’s small, and decorated warmly in reds and dark wood. Dean doesn’t feel underdressed in his slate gray button up and nice jeans either, which is a plus.

From his vantage point at the door, he can tell that Castiel hasn’t arrived yet, and Dean isn’t sure if he should get them a table or not. His problem is solved when a pretty hostess approaches him with a smile.

“Bienvenue aux Forchettes!” She greets in a charming French accent. “Do you have a reservation with us this evening?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Dean tells her. “I’m meeting someone here.”

“Ooh! Is this someone Castiel, by chance?” She asks with a twinkle in her eye.

Dean is slightly taken aback, but nods. “Yeah,” he says slowly.

“Merveilleux! He called earlier today and told us he would be coming in,” the hostess gushed as she grabbed two menus and a wine list from the little stand and led Dean towards the back.

“Does he come here a lot?” Dean can’t help but ask. It seems odd, how familiar she seems with the man Dean’s meeting.

“Oui! But mostly with his brother. Hannah, our Chef de cuisine is Ezekiel’s wife, you see?” She stops at a little alcove table that looks comfortable and intimate, the perfect date table. Dean thanks her, and takes his seat. Soon he has a menu in his hands and the hostess has left with a final, “I’ll send Castiel back as soon as he arrives, Monsieur.”

Once Dean is alone he lets out a nervous breath and wipes his hands on his pants. He shouldn’t be this nervous. It’s not like he’s never been on a date before. He’s just being ridiculous. It’s just that none of his dates have been this hot, and he has never seen his dates asses prior to the _actual_ date.

The hostess returns briefly to fill his water glass, then flits off without a word. Dean takes a large drink of the cool liquid and focuses on the drink menu in front of him. He doesn’t know if Castiel is a beer man, or the bottle-of-wine-with-escargot type. At this point Dean would drink Midori if it meant calming his nerves.

Even from the back of the restaurant Dean can hear the door when it opens next, and he looks up to see Castiel talking amicably with the host as he sheds his coat. Beneath he is wearing a plaid button up with a striped tie, tucked into black slacks. The hostess waves in the general direction of Dean’s table, and he makes a show of staring intently at the menu. He doesn’t want Castiel to think he was staring or anything.

When Castiel reaches the table, Dean hops from his seat to greet the man.

It’s been a while since he’s been on a first date, and is rusty on the etiquette. He doesn’t like the idea of a handshake, because it feels too formal, but he also just met the man, so maybe a hug is too much. Castiel takes it out of his hands, thankfully, and pulls Dean into an appropriately brief, but firm embrace.

He smells really good, like leather and spice.

“I’m happy you could come out tonight, Dean,” Castiel says in greeting when they pull apart and sit together in the curved booth. He looks completely comfortable, going as far as to put the menu out of his way.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean replies nervously. He can feel his hands start to sweat again, and coughs to clear the awkwardness in his throat. “So they tell me you know the chef here?”

Castiel smiles and takes a sip of his water glass. “Yes. She’s my brother’s wife. The food she cooks is always amazing.”

“That’s good, cause I gotta be honest, I’ve never really had this kind of food before,” Dean tells his date. Then he stiffens. Was that a weird thing to say?

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you eat slugs. They make a Parisian inspired cheeseburger that’s my favorite.” Dean doesn’t get a chance to reply that that sounds amazing. Instead he looks up to see a young asian boy approach their table.

“Hey, Cas,” he says in lieu of a normal restaurant ‘hello.’

“How are you Kevin?” Castiel asks the boy, and he’s smiling which is probably one of the best things Dean has seen on the other man’s face.

“I’m doing okay. Summer’s almost over, but whatever, it’s gotta end sometime.” The boy’s eyes drift over to Dean and he clears his throat, standing more at attention. “Can I get you two started with something to drink?”

Castiel turns towards Dean then and asks, “Do you like beer or wine?”

“Either’s cool,” Dean responds diplomatically. When Castiel just raises a single brow in question Dean changes his answer to, “whatever’s on tap would be great.”

“Then two of those,” Castiel orders with a smile.

Kevin nods, “I’ll get that right up and give you a few minutes to decide on dinner.”

“So, Dean, do you hijack cabs and ask out strangers often?” Castiel asks, but his eyes are shining, so Dean figures he’s joking and not mocking.

“All the time,” Dean replies with a saucy grin. “You’re just the first one to fall for it.”

For all his grace, Castiel let’s out an undignified scoff. “I highly doubt that to be true.”

Dean can feel himself blush. Damn his light complexion, it gives away everything. “Yeah, well.” Dean clears his throat again and Castiel smiles at him. “What else is good here, besides the Paris burger?”

“The coq au vin’s good, as is the steak-frites,” Castiel explains.

“Steak-frites? That’s like steak and fries, right?” Dean feels dumb for asking, but he gets the feeling Castiel isn’t the kind to judge. The dark haired man nods just as Kevin appears with two beautiful looking ales in delicate glasses.

“Here you go,” he says as he sets a glass in front of each of them. “Do you know what you would like for dinner?”

“I’d like the burger, rare, please” Castiel orders. Kevin nods and takes the menu from where Castiel pushed it to the side.

The young waiter turns to Dean next. “Uh, steak-frites, rare too, thanks.” Dean hands over his own menu, which Kevin takes with a smile.

“You got it. I’ll let Hannah know you’re here, Cas,” Kevin says, to which Castiel nods gratefully.

There is a beat of silence, when Dean’s afraid the date may turn awkward, but Castiel saves it again. “So, what do you do, Dean?”

“I work at Devereaux Computers. I’m an analyst.” Dean takes a sip of his beer and let’s out a happy sigh. Damn, that’s good. “What about you?”

“Ezekiel and I own our own tattoo parlor,” Castiel tells him. “It’s small, only us and one other artist, but it’s more than we could have ever dreamed.”

“Do you have any other siblings?” Dean asks as he takes another sip of his beer. “No, just the one brother, though I did grow up with an exorbitant number of cousins,” Castiel explains. “How about yourself? Any siblings?”

“I just have a brother too. Sam, he’s four years younger than me. Damn near raised him after our folks died,” Dean answers candidly. It’s been so long since the accident, that he finds it easier to talk about in conversation.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Castiel sounds sincere, and his eyes are boring into Dean’s. He reaches out with his right hand, and lays it on Dean’s shoulder.

“Thanks. It happened years ago, and we had good people to take us in.” Which is true. Bobby may be a little gruff around the edges, but he’s kind and always loved the boys. And he let Dean take care of his little brother, which meant the world to him.

“Well, I am sorry you had to go through it all the same,” Castiel says with a smile, which Dean can’t help but reciprocate.

The conversation moves to happier topics after that. Dean tells his date about his college years, and how his friend Charlie got him into the computer business. Castiel laughs appropriately and rewards Dean with stories from the shop, including the time that Castiel lost a bet and had to get a tattoo of a butterfly on his ass. Dean learns that Castiel is twenty seven, only two years older than himself, and that his birthday is the day after Dean's.

They get interrupted once when Kevin brings out a plate of escargot, “compliments of the chef.” At first he pushes the plate towards Castiel, not really interested in eating bugs. Then Castiel uses words like smooth and buttery and aphrodisiac, and Dean is sold. He takes one of the little forks and lifts it to his mouth. Castiel is watching with rapt attention, so Dean makes a point of sliding it slowly off the tines with his lips. It does taste delicious, albeit a little chewy, but the way Castiel’s gaze zeroes in on his lips as he licks away the little extra butter left behind is worth it.

From there the date seems to get more sexually charged by the second. First, when Dean laughs and his hand moves to give Castiel’s thigh a squeeze. Then it’s when their food arrives and Castiel moans like a pornstar around his burger. By the time their dessert arrives, an apple tart a la mode ‘cause it’s the closest they had to pie, Dean’s rocking a halfie in his jeans.

They’ve gravitated closer together during dinner, and Dean finds himself sitting with less than two inches between them when the bill arrives. Dean snatches it before Castiel can, and sticks his credit card inside.

“You don’t have to do that, Dean, I chose the restaurant after all,” Castiel says around his glass of port, the one thing he likes to indulge himself in.

“Nope, I’m the one who asked you out. My treat,” Dean replies smoothly. He himself is nursing a nice whiskey. It’s delicious, but not helping the butterflies in his stomach.

“Well, I am glad you did.” Castiel’s voice is deep and soft where it tickles along Dean’s face. “I had a nice evening.”

“Me too, Cas.” Dean’s eyes flit down to Castiel’s lips, that are colored a little purple from the wine but look plump and inviting. Subconsciously he licks his own, and Castiel mirrors the movement. He leans a millimeter closer. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment. Out of the corner of his eye he spots Kevin carefully take the checkbook with a blush.

Castiel leans in.

Dean waits with baited breath.

When Castiel finally presses his lips to Dean’s own it’s chaste. There’s little pressure and his tongue stays in his own mouth. It’s nice. Dean has never really kissed this way before. For him, it was always wetter, dirtier, more desperate. He thinks he’s been missing out.

Castiel pulls away, but he’s smiling again. It makes the little lines around his eyes stand out.

Kevin returns, more composed, with Dean’s card and a couple of chocolate truffles. The staff must have really taken care of them, because the bill is practically nothing. Dean matches the cost in the tip and signs his name at the bottom of the receipt.

With shared smiles the two men slide out of the booth and walk to the exit shoulder to shoulder. Once they are out in the cool night air Dean turns towards his date. “Can I give you a ride home?” He asks the other man with a gesture towards his Impala. Sam hadn’t wanted to give it back when Dean asked, but didn’t really have a choice. He had gotten at least one date out of it after all.

“That would be nice, Dean, thank you,” Castiel answers. “That’s quite the vehicle.”

“Yeah, she’s my baby.” Sam always tells Dean that his obsession with his car in unhealthy, but whatever. Castiel is at her side and running his hands over her roof in awe, which Dean definitely appreciates.

Dean quickens his steps and opens the passenger side door with a shy smile. “Such a gentleman,” Castiel comments lightly. He slides into the car with a certain amount of grace. Dean closes the door and jogs around the front and climbs in like a dog with too many legs in comparison.

Baby roars to life and Castiel makes a ‘not bad’ face. Dean could spend another whole dinner trying to read his expressions.

There aren’t many words spoken on the drive to Castiel’s (and Dean’s) home. Castiel only comments that he can’t believe he hasn’t seen Dean before, and Dean has to bite his tongue to stop the words that want to escape.

The little fact that he’s gotten off watching the other man dust his flatscreen is definitely eighth date material.

There’s an open parking spot right on the street in front of Dean’s building which he takes happily. Dean is reluctant to leave the car just yet. Part of him, a very large part, wants to invite Castiel up to his apartment. It’s not totally presumptuous of him, is it? Maybe they could just share a pot of coffee. Sex doesn’t have to happen. Even if Dean really _really_ wants it to.

His train of thought is broken when he feels calloused fingers on his jaw, gentle pressure to turn his head, and lips on his.

This kiss is hotter. Castiel sucks his bottom lip just enough to make him want more, and he can feel the slightest wetness as his tongue moistens them. Dean cracks his lips open for the invading muscle and all the tension falls out of him when he feels it massage against his own. It the kind of kiss that you think is happy to be slow, but before you know it you find yourself hard and wanting. Like boiling water, or embers in a fire.

As far as kisses go it’s pretty goddamn phenomenal, but he can still feel the other man holding back. After what feels like only a moment, he pulls away.

“I had a great time tonight,” Castiel says through split slick lips.

“It doesn’t have to be over.” The words are out before Dean even thinks them. “You could come up for a drink?” The longing in Castiel’s face is obvious, so when he pulls back just slightly, Dean is surprised.

“I can’t. I would love to, but I don’t let myself go there on the first date,” Castiel tells him softly. As if he can feel Dean’s disappointment, he leans forwards to give another closed mouthed peck. “I really did have a perfect evening. I would like to go out again.”

“O’course I wanna go out again, Cas,” Dean replies. “And if you wanna go slow, that’s cool with me too.”

Castiel’s beaming smile is quite the reward, if Dean says so himself.

Together they climb out of the car and share another kiss on the sidewalk. “I’ll call you,” Dean says once they part. Castiel smiles, kisses him once, twice, three times more, then jogs across the street towards his own building.

Dean knows there is a dopey grin on his face as he takes the stairs up to the third floor. He’s inside his apartment and at the balcony without even thinking about it.

Castiel must have taken his time, because Dean can watch as the door to the other man’s apartment swings open. The dark haired man leans against his door as soon as it is closed Dean would bet he’s smiling. Then he does something that Dean was not expecting.

He moves a hand to press down on his crotch.

Maybe the kisses started a fire in Castiel like they did in Dean.

Dean wants to be in that room, be that hand. When he get’s the idea, he can’t get his phone out quick enough. He watches as Castiel reaches into his own jeans and pulls out his ringing cell.

“ _When you said you’d call, I didn’t think it would be this soon,_ ” Castiel’s deep voice rumbles through from the other side of the phone.

“Yeah, I got to thinkin’. Just ‘cause I’m not with you, doesn’t mean I can’t show you a good time,” Dean replies. He makes sure to drop his voice lower, and he watches as Castiel grins across the street.

“ _Oh? Tell me, Dean, what would you do if you were here right now?_ ”

It’s been a while since he’s done the whole ‘phone sex’ thing, but damn if he doesn’t plan to do it right.

“Well first, I’d kiss ya some more.” Let it be said that Dean Winchester appreciates the slow burn. “Your lips are pretty perfect, man. I’d press you up against a wall and lick and bite at them until they get all pink and swollen. I’d run my fingers through your hair. Has anyone told you you have the hair of someone who’s already gotten fucked?”

There’s a _hmmm_ at the other end of the phone. “ _I’ve been told that a time or two,_ ” Castiel finally says.

“Yeah, well that’s ‘cause it’s true. Once I got you all needy with just my lips I’d move on to the fun stuff.” Dean’s breath hitches when he see’s Castiel start to loosen the tie around his neck. He’s on the right track. “You see, I like my partners to feel completely taken care of. I’d undress you slowly, kissing what skin appeared. I bet you would be all flushed. So sexy. You’d already be beggin’ me for more.”

“ _Dean,_ ” Castiel breaths out.

“Yeah, Cas, I gotcha,” Dean assures him. “Once you’re naked I’d drop to my knees and fuckin’ _worship_ your cock. I’d suck you down, swallow all you had to offer. I’ve got no gag reflex to speak off, so I’d let you fuck my face if you wanted to.”

Across the street, Castiel unzips his fly and Dean’s mouth waters as he reaches inside his boxers.

Way on the right track, then.

“You’d make the prettiest sounds, Cas. Moaning-” Castiel’s moans filter through the speaker. “Yeah, Cas. Fuck, just like that. I would work you so good, until you’re spilling down my throat. I’d swallow it all. I’d fuckin’ love it.”

“ _Oh, fuck Dean. Keep going._ ” And how can Dean say no to that?

“I’d still be hard for you. Throbbing in my jeans, all for you. But I wouldn’t do anything yet. See, I still need to take care of you. You’d still be all blissed out, and I’d be able to manhandle you to a flat surface. A couch or a bed, somewhere comfortable. Once I got you face down I’d spread your cheeks, and just look.”

It’s nearly painful how hard Dean is in his pants, and watching Cas slowly stroke himself across the street, too many feet away, isn’t helping. But he doesn’t want to come yet. He’s just getting to the good parts.

“I bet you’d have a beautiful hole, Cas. All pink and ready for me. I’d use my tongue first. Get you all slick as I lick into you. Do you like it when I do that, Cas?”

“ _Yes. Yeah, I love it,_ ” Castiel answers followed by another moan and a curse. Dean watches as his strokes speed up, then slow back down to a lazy pace. He doesn’t want to come either.

“Once I knew you could take it I’d add a finger. You’d start to push back, ‘cause you need more. I’d add a second and drill into you. Hittin’ you’re special spot every time. You’d be hard again, I bet, and you’d be leakin’ all over yourself. So fuckin’ hot, Cas.” Dean really wants to come now, but he just can’t. This is turning out to be one of the hottest fantasies he’s had to date, and he just wants it to keep going.

“ _Come on, Dean, just fuck me already._ ”

“Yeah, you’d like that. When you start beggin’ all you get is another finger. Fuck, I’d be watchin’ my fingers get sucked in by your needy hole. So ready for something other than fingers. You want my cock inside of you, don’t you?” It’s a miracle that Dean’s jeans are surviving the circus tent that’s happening. Castiel doesn’t answer, just moans low and long. “Don’t you, Cas?”

He can see Castiel stop his strokes and most likely squeeze off his impending orgasm. “ _Yes, I fucking want it._ Need _it!_ ”

“Then I’d fuck you. I’d pull out my fingers and bury myself balls deep. You’d feel so perfect, baby. Just for me.” Dean can practically feel the phantom heat from Castiel’s body engulfing him. “I’d be done teasing. I’d fuck into you hard, nailing you till you are screaming under me. Fuck, so perfect. I’d, uh, just keep going. I bet you could come again just like this. On nothing but my cock in you’re ass. You want that, huh? Wanna come on just my cock?”

Castiel’s done with the tease as well, if his hurried strokes mean anything. “ _Just you, need only you, come on._ ”

“Bet we’d wake the neighbors. I’d be fucking into you so hard the headboard would be bangin’ on the wall. God, shit, you feel so fucking good. You close, baby?” Dean asks. He’d be pumping his own dick right about now if he could move his free hand from where it’s white knuckling the balcony railing. Castiel just looks so beautiful as he fucks up into his own fist. “Come on, Cas, come for me.”

Dean can see the moment he does. The other man’s body goes taut and he can hear the loudest moan spill through his phone. The sight has Dean coming too, all over himself and his boxers. “Oh fuck,” he whimpers as his knees buckle and he drops like a sack of potatoes.

“ _Dean, did you-?_ ” Castiel asks once he’s gotten his voice back.

“Yeah, fuck, didn’t even need to touch myself. You’re so hot, baby,” Dean tells the other man as he himself gets his bearings.

They’re mutually quiet; they just breath together over the phone. Dean’s replaying the best fucking phone sex he’s ever had and not believing that he was able to talk himself into a climax, instead of just his partner.

“ _That was amazing,_ ” Castiel says quietly. “ _I’m very much hating my three date rule right about now._ ”

Dean can’t help but chuckle as he undoes his pants and kicks them off. He’s definitely going to need to shower. “I think we can make it. Especially if the second date ends like this.”

For a moment there’s quiet, and Dean fears he’s gone too far (even if he doesn’t understand how he could’ve). Then Castiel says the most beautiful thing.

“ _Or maybe I can just make an exception to the rule._ ”

Dean grins and gives his soft cock a little petting in reward. “Every rule needs to get broken eventually, right?”

Castiel chuckles. “ _Yes. I believe that’s true. I- uh-_ ” He breaks off hesitantly.

“What?” Dean asks, not really concerned but definitely curious.

“ _I liked when you called me ‘baby’,_ ” Castiel replies softly.

Dean flushes. He doesn’t even remember doing that, but is glad he did. “You got it.” An annoying red light catches Dean’s eye and he notes with a groan his TV clock is telling him he’d better get some sleep if he wants to not be a walking corpse in the morning. “I really wish I could stay on the phone all night, but I really ought to hit the hay.”

“ _I understand,_ ” Castiel responds. “ _I hope to see you again very soon, Dean._ ”

“Me too, Cas, me too.” Dean clears his throat and adds, “Have a good night, baby.”

Dean can practically hear the other man’s smile when he replies, “ _you too._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean wakes in the morning feeling better than he has in a long time. It has been like this for the entire week since his date. His limbs feel like they've been filled with helium and he know’s that his mouth is stretched into a wide grin. Last nights dreams had been full of soft touches and hints of tattoo’d skin leaving his cock pleasantly stiff; the kind of morning wood that he can take care of leisurely in the shower instead of angrily before even leaving his bed.

He ends up doing just that, using soap and hot water to ease the movements as he thinks about his date with Castiel (again).

God, that man is something else. He was funny, and sexy and smart. There hadn’t been a moment in their date that had been lacking and that’s something rare. He hadn’t even been upset that he didn’t get the other man to come up to his apartment. The impromptu phone sex session had been a perfect ending to a perfect night. His stokes speed up as he thinks about it. Dean comes lazily with Castiel’s names on his breath and the imaginary taste of Castiel’s sweat drenched skin on his tongue. He finished washing off and cleans his hair before getting dressed casually in sweats and a zip up hoodie.

Thankfully its Dean’s day off and he can spend it lounging around his place. In the last couple of day’s he’s been neglecting his housework in favor of texting Cas with his free time. They haven’t been able to see each other yet, but Dean has plans to ask the other man out soon and figures today is as good a day as any to get it done. Not yet though. His apartment is too dirty for dates. Dean boots up his old laptop and get’s some Rolling Stones playing as he goes around tidying up his things and wiping down the surfaces. Around ten he figures he’s put it off enough and reaches for his phone.

He types up a short message hello and hits send.

He sets his phone back down on the (now sparkling) coffee table where it sits silent while he runs a swiffer over the hardwood floors. When it dings with an incoming text Dean does not leap (he does) over the armchair and definitely doesn’t (does) fall onto the floor in his rush to reach it. When he opens the message he can’t help the blush that covers his face.

Dean wants to pout. He hasn’t seen the other man in a week, and he’s spent every last moment wanting to rectify that. Dejectedly, he types up a response, hoping he doesn’t sound too pathetic.

Then, because he can’t help but be a nosey asshole sometimes, he adds a second message.

He doesn’t have to wait long before Castiel responds. And when he does, Dean’s ignored cock gives a valiant jump.

There is so much more he wants to say, but want to hear Castiel’s voice while he does. He dials the other man’s number and isn’t surprised when he picks up on the first ring.

“I didn’t realize you could get any hotter,” Dean says before Castiel has the chance to speak.

A deep chuckle is received in reply and it makes goosebumps erupt on his arms. “ _I didn’t realize my extracurriculars were so stimulating for you,_ ” Castiel tells him with what is no doubt a smile.

“Believe me, they are very stimulating.” Dean punctuates the sentence with a soft moan as he palms his growing cock.

“ _Don’t tempt me, Dean. I’m at work and can’t afford to be distracted,_ ” Castiel scolds in good humor.

Dean chuckles at him, but pulls his hand away from his crotch. “Alright, alright, buzzkill,” he jokes. It is almost surprising how easily he finds himself slipping into such a comfortable relationship with the other man. “But anyway, this class? You really would let me join?”

“ _Of course. It’s just an hour long. But it is a couple class, so you’d need to bring a partner,_ ” Castiel explains.

“Shouldn’t be a problem, Cas. What time is it?” Dean asks, racking his brain for who could be free to go with him.

“ _Seven. I’ll text you the address._ ” There’s a clatter from the other end of the line and Dean can hear the distant buzzing of tattoo machines and another gravelly voice calling for Castiel. “ _That’s Ezekiel. I have to get back to work. I’ll see you tonight, Dean._ ”

“Yeah, see you, Cas,” Dean says in farewell as he presses the button to end the call. He quickly sends off a few messages to see who is available for class. Charlie has a date already planned, and Sam says straight up no (he said watching Dean drool over his neighbor once was enough for him), but Jo seems intrigued and promises she’ll be there.

Dean goes about the rest of his day cleaning and forcing himself to not obsess about his hair, clothes, or lack of any kickboxing experience.

By some miracle, he makes it to seven without fussing too much, and makes the quick drive to the gym. It’s only a few blocks from the tattoo shop, and Dean makes it there a few minutes before class is due to start. Already the gym is filing up with women. They are all beautiful and looking longingly towards the back of the gym. Dean looks to that direction and see’s Castiel talking to another tall man with dark styled hair.

As if the other man can sense Dean’s gaze he looks over and they lock gazes. He sends Dean a smile and a ‘one minute’ hand gesture. Dean doesn’t mind, it gives him a chance to look the man over a little longer. He’s wearing workout shorts somewhere between basketball and biking tightness, and a tight black Under Armour t-shirt. His hands are already wrapped up in red fabric and from his spot in the gym he can just make out the splotches of color on Castiel’s skin.

“You ready for an ass kicking?” A bubbly voice asks from behind Dean’s back and he spins to face his friend.

Jo’s blonde hair is in a high pony tail and she looks ready to do the aforementioned ass kicking. “You wish, Harvelle.”

“Come on, we probably have to sign up somewhere,” Jo says with a smile as she looks towards a desk where a bored looking brunette sits.

Dean figures she’s probably right, and the two head in that direction. The brunette looks up from a very hardcore looking magazine and smirks at the newcomers.

“Welcome to The Cage,” she says, looking both Dean and Jo right in the eyes. “What can I help you two with tonight?”

“We’re here for Cas’ class,” Dean tells her with a smile of his own. Beside him, Jo nods along.

“Oh! Clarence is _quite_ the popular man. Well you are in luck, two of the regulars are out with the flu so we have room.” From behind her she grabs two clipboards and sets them on the counter with a _smack_. “I just need you to fill these out.”

Dean takes the clipboard and one of the pens with a little boxing glove eraser to a spare chair and takes a seat. Jo fills out hers next to him, before jumping up to hand it to the receptionist and joining a few woman around her in conversation. It’s a standard information sheet, with his age and emergency contact number, and he gets all the questions answered in no time. Just as he drops it back of with the brunette, Castiel approaches.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Castiel greets with a grin. He looks tousled and badass. Dean likes it.

“I am too,” Dean replies. “Though I feel a little like a rooster in the hen house.” It’s true. In the ten minutes that he’s been in the gym only women have entered.

Castiel actually blushes and lifts his wrapped hands to scratch at the stubble covering his chin. “Yes. I will admit that my normal students tend to be women. They, well…”

“What my dear cousin is too modest to say is that they really just do the class for him,” the brunette man Castiel had been speaking to earlier says as he joins the conversation.

Castiel punches the man in the shoulder and glares. He morphs the look into a pleasantly exasperated smile as he looks back towards Dean. “Sorry, Dean. This is my cousin, Michael. He owns the gym with his friend Luke. Michael, this is Dean.”

Michael holds out his hand for a shake, which Dean returns. “Nice to meet you. This is quite the gym.” “My pride and joy,” Michael says with a smile. “Well I believe it’s time for class. Try not to hurt yourself, Dean.”

Dean shrugs as if to say, ‘I’ll try my best,’ and watches as Michael walks back towards a closed office door. Castiel smiles and places a headset with a microphone on his head.

“Everyone ready for tonight?” He asks the room as he jogs over to the front of the large room. He shoots Dean a wink before telling the class to get in pairs and begins the class.

* * *

 

Dean isn’t new to being sore and turned on, but what he’s feeling now is that feeling on a whole new level. He definitely didn’t think the class would be as hard as it was, and at the end of the hour he feels like he’s going to die. Not to mention the torture of watching Castiel as he kicks and punches his own bag with arousingly perfect movements.

He’s never been this close to this much of the other mans skin. And as it turns out, the tattoos are more of a distraction than he thought possible. Dean can’t see all of them, but what is visible is absolutely stunning. When he shows his back Dean can see the tops of what he would bet is the large back piece poking out on the back of her biceps. On his left side are the tips of feathers, but the right side is a little darker. It looks like bone and skin, almost jerky-like in it’s texture. There’s also a forest of ivy crawling up his right arm with waves of white smoke on his left.

Beside him, Jo is smiling wide as sweat drips down her neck. “We are _definitely_ doing this again.”

Dean nods and watches with a dry throat as Castiel walks over to them.

“Did you guys enjoy the workout?” He asks them both as he wipes sweat off his brow with a small towel.

“It was amazing! I don’t think we’ve been introduced, I’m Jo,” the blonde says happily as she reaches for Castiel’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Castiel replies. His hair looks wilder than normal, and Dean wants to run his fingers through it.

Dean is ready to ask the other man to join Jo and himself for a drink, when another blonde man approaches the group. A familiar looking blonde man. It’s the guy he’s seen at Castiel’s place from time to time. He is only an inch shorter than Dean and has icy blue eyes. On his arm is a beautiful tattoo of a large, yellow snake winding up his arm and ending at his chest, where the reptile is biting into a bright red heart.

“Well, well, well, Castiel,” he says silkily as he crosses his arms over his chest. “It all makes sense now.”

Castiel sends Dean an apologetic look as he asks, “and what exactly makes sense?”

“Why you haven’t return any of my calls this week.” Without preamble he shoves his hand in Dean’s direction. “Luke Milton, pleasure to meet you.”

Dean shakes the other man’s hand, a little tighter than he normally would, and smiles at Castiel before answering. “Dean Winchester.”

“And I’m Jo,” his friend interjects with a grin. Luke moves his gaze to her face and his grin gets a little more pleasant.

Thank God for Jo. She distracts Luke enough for Castiel and Dean to slip away to a quieter part of the gym.

Once they are out of sight Castiel moves in to give Dean a soft kiss on the mouth. When he pulls away his eyes are smiling, but he looks nervous. “I should have warned you that I have an _interesting_ relationship with Luke before you came here.”

Surprisingly, Dean doesn’t mind. “It’s okay, baby. You don’t need to explain. I mean, you didn’t return his calls. That’s gotta mean something.”

Cas chuckles and leans down to kiss Dean’s sweat soaked collarbone. His fingers trail down Dean’s sides and slip under his t-shirt. Dean feels paralyzed with want.

“That’s because I like you, Dean. I wouldn’t want to do anything to mess this up.” His lips move up to the tender skin below Dean’s ear and he suckles gently. “I can’t believe we’ve only known each other for just over a week. It feel like so much longer.”

Dean means to say, ‘I can’t either,’ or maybe ‘you could never mess this up,’ but what comes out is a loud moan. Castiel smiles against his skin and presses his hips against Deans. Both of their cocks are heavy and stiff where they rub together. With clumsy hands Dean frames Castiel’s face and pulls his lips up, joining them in a bruising kiss. Castiel rolls his hips and sucks Dean’s tongue into his mouth.

When he needs the air Dean pulls back and pants against Castiel’s lips. “I was right. This whole kickboxing thing is totally hot. I get why all those woman come here every week to watch you. You’re incredible.”

Castiel groans and wraps his arms around Dean’s back. He scratches blunt nails against the tanned skin and nibbles at Dean’s lips. “Dean,” he whispers, “will you let me take care of you right now?” Dean nods and kisses Castiel again. Deep, wet, sloppy kisses that are perfect in their imperfection.

With a wicked grin Castiel steps away and drops to his knees. He runs his hands (that are still wrapped. Jesus Christ) up Dean’s ankles and calves. He gives his knees a squeeze and Dean has to stifle the involuntary jerk and giggle. Castiel doesn’t say anything, but Dean would bet the Impala that the other man won’t forget it.

While his hands explore the less fun lower extremities of Dean’s body, his mouth laps at the skin above his waist band. He sucks marks into the bone of his hips and dips his tongue into Dean’s shallow navel.

“Holy shit. Cas, baby, fuck, don’t stop,” Dean babbles as he finally gets to run his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair.

Castiel takes the encouragement and rolls with it. His hands slip under the wide legs of his workout shorts and grips the globes of Dean’s ass in both hands. Then they twist, grab the fabric in this fists, and pulls. A full body shutter racks Dean as his flesh is exposed to the cold gym air. Dean doesn’t have to suffer long before his cock is surrounded by the heat of Castiel’s mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yeah, Cas, you’re amazing,” Dean moans as his hands tighten on the dark hair between his fingers. He doesn’t pull or push, he just needs something to ground him in the present. Without it, he’s sure he would float right to the ceiling.

Castiel hums around Dean’s length and bobs up and down with expert precision. With his free hands he alternates between fondling Dean’s balls and rubbing at his sensitive taint.

He feels like all of his neurons are firing at once, lighting fireworks in all of his cells. He’s never felt this before, and he can feel his orgasm rushing towards him at full speed. Dean tries with all his might to stop it, because he doesn’t want it all to end, but there isn’t much he can do with Castiel’s mouth working miracles on his flesh.

“Baby, I’m so, so close,” Dean warns him. His hips are moving on their own accord into the heat, chasing the amazing feeling. What finally pushes him over the edge is the feeling of one dry finger straying up to press at his rim, just barely pushing in.

He comes with a silent cry down Castiel’s throat. The other man moans and swallows all Dean has to give.

Once his dick has stopped spurting he pulls up on Castiel’s hair, urging the man to stand. As soon as he is able, he pushed his tongue into Castiel’s mouth. He is invigorated by the taste of himself on his lover’s tongue. His hand wanders down to the tent in Castiel’s own shorts and rubs where the head should be.

“We don’t have time,” Castiel says into Dean’s mouth. “You friend is waiting, and there’s a bar down the street I think you would enjoy.”

“What about you?” Dean ask with a firmer press of his palm.

“This was about you. I can wait.” Castiel steps away and adjusts himself while giving Dean a dazzling smile. Dean is skeptical, but leans forward to give the other man another kiss nonetheless.

“Then let’s get out of here. The quicker I can return the favor, the better.” Dean intertwines his fingers with Castiel’s and they round a corner to see a very amused blonde pair. Luke and Jo are wearing matching expressions, and before they know it all four of them are laughing as they lock up the gym and stumble to the bar. 

* * *

 

The Horse and Hound is your stereotypical British style pub covered in soccer jerseys and filled with old men who are keen to ignore smoking laws. Behind the bar there is a tall blonde man wearing a deep v-neck t-shirt and a loosely knotted tie. When he see’s the group enter he lifts a hand to tip an invisible hat and gestures to an empty booth in the corner.

The four friends slide into the worn bench seats; Dean and Castiel in one side with Jo and Luke in the other. Dean feels like he should feel weird about all this. After all he is about to have drinks with his best friend, his potential new boyfriend, and his potential new boyfriend’s friend with sometimes-benefits. It’s something right out of the plot of a bad episode of Dr. Sexy.

But, even given all that, it doesn’t feel weird. It seems like Castiel and Luke really are friends first. Not to mention Luke is working pretty hard to get on Jo’s good side. The poor guy has no idea that Jo’s two boyfriends would break him into pieces if they knew he was even thinking about trying.

“How’d you find this place?” Jo asks the group as she taps her neatly clipped nails on the tabletop.

“These ruffians started a London style bar brawl and broke my pool table, that’s how,” the bartender explains with a smile as he slams down five overfilling pints. “The wankers have been paying me for it ever since.” Then without preamble he shoves into booth opposite of Dean and Castiel, forcing Jo into a pretentious blonde sandwich.

“Seriously?” Dean asks his date as he takes a long drink of the beer. It’s frothy, and he can feel the foam mustache on his top lip.

“I assure you, he’s exaggerating,” Castiel says with a glare at the bartender.

“Yeah, Balthy, it was just a couple cues at most,” Luke adds with a smirk. “And the whole issue got resolved in the end.”

“You’re not helping,” Castiel shoots at his friend. He gives Dean and Jo an exasperated smile before he takes a deep pull from his drink. “Do you remember Meg? Our receptionist?” When both newcomers nod he goes on. “Well there was a time a couple years ago, when she first started, that we didn’t know much about her. Anyway one night she suggested we go to this bar after work to get to know each other.”

“Was she hitting on you? Together?” Jo interrupts with a smile.

“God, I wish,” Luke bemoans.

Castiel pulls a face Dean can’t get a read on and continues as if the interruption didn’t happen. “Anyway she brings us here and we have some drinks when some guy comes over.”

“Smarmy bastard,” both Luke and Balthazar say simultaneously before shooting amused grins to each other and high-fiving over Jo’s head.

“Turns out he was her on-again off-again boyfriend,” Castiel continues as he takes a sip of his pint. “He thought we were _encroaching_ and tried to get us to fight him.”

“I, being a true gentlemen, refused,” Luke says with far too much emphasis to be at all truthful.

“ _You_ , waited until he turned around, hit him in the ass with your cue, then handed it to _me_ and ran off,” Castiel finishes his tale with a glare sent in the blondes direction. But Dean knows its mostly for show, considering they're still friends and Meg still works for them.

“What happened next?” Jo asks. She has her glass halfway to her lips, like she was thinking of taking a drink but forgot about it midway.

“Oh it all worked itself out. Crowley still comes over once a week for poker games. Didn’t you date him for a while, Cassie?” Luke asks his friend with a taunting lilt to his voice.

Dean watches as Castiel blushed beside him and points a finger at the blonde. “It was one date. _One_. And we agreed it didn’t count.”

When nobody talks right away (aside from Luke’s mumbled, “I didn’t agree.”) Castiel throws up his hands in exasperation. “We were stuck in this stupid line for like an hour. We talked _a little_ and afterward he bought me coffee. It doesn’t count.”

“It kinda counts,” Jo admits softly.

“That’s what I told him,” Balthazar adds.

Castiel turns towards Dean with a pleading look in his beautiful blue eyes. “You agree with me, don’t you Dean? It doesn’t really count as a date, right?”

He pauses for the perfect amount of time to create dramatic tension before shrugging his shoulders. “It kinda counts, Cas. Sorry.”

Castiel’s mouth drops open. “You all obviously share some mild psychosis. And I will not continue to argue with lunatics.”

Dean laughs along with the others while slipping his hand inconspicuously onto Castiel’s thigh and giving it a squeeze. The sly smile he gets in return is one of his favorite ones so far.

* * *

 

What began as one drink turned into four, which turned into Jo inviting Benny and Victor out, which turned into them all getting wasted at the bar by ten thirty at night.

Balthazar has since accepted the fact that he is still _working_ and watches wistfully from behind the bar as the others make fools of themselves.

Jo and Benny slow dance on a makeshift dance floor to the quiet jazz filtering through the sound system. Every once in a while Benny will whisper something into her ear, and make a pretty blush spread across her face. Victor is watching fondly while he nurses his second scotch. Luke sits at the bar and keeps Balthazar company, even though it looks like it might really be the other way around.

Dean is content to just sit in his little booth with Castiel. They pass a glass of reserve Jameson back and forth. Neither of them feel the need to speak much, opting instead to share lingering kisses in between watching their friends and playing footsie.

“Can I make a confession, Cas?” Dean asks softly as he hands the tumbler to his date.

“Of course, Dean.” The whiskey and smoke has made his voice deeper than normal and Dean wants to bottle it up to wear around his neck.

“You’re like the hottest person I’ve ever seen,” he says. Castiel leans in to kiss him, but is stopped by Dean’s fingers at his lips. “Not done. You’re definitely the hottest person alive and I really want to get like _super_ horizontal with you right now.” Again Castiel tries to lean forward but Dean thwarts him. “ _But!_ This is also kinda the best night I’ve ever had and I don’t want to ruin it by going to fast.”

Castiel’s grin goes soft around the edges and he move impossibly closer to Dean’s side. “Dean. I think that is the nicest thing anyones ever said to me.”

“Saps!” Luke calls from the bar. They ignore him.

“You’re somethin’ special, man.” Anything else Dean plans to say is cut off when Castiel finally surges forward and connects their mouths. His tongue presses against Dean’s lips and they slip open immediately. There is no way he has the willpower to say no to the man next to him.

Before they manage to get beyond a PG-13 rating, Balthazar clears his throat obnoxiously.

The two break apart, but only just, and turn to look at the bartender.

“Now, we all love you both and are happy that you’re, frankly, sickeningly sweet together. However my bar isn’t really the place for you to foray into pornography,” Balthazar says kindly but firmly. “I’ve called you a cab. It’s already outside. Aren’t I wonderful?”

Castiel clears his throat and moves separate himself from his date. “Yes. Thank you. Balthazar. Goodnight.” He clambers out of the booth and holds out a hand. “Dean?”

“Yupp. Coming,” Dean says happily as he takes the offered hand and is pulled from his seat. “Goodnight everyone!” His voice is loud enough to reach his friends, all of whom raise their hands in farewell.

The two make their way out of the bar, each receiving a smack on the ass from a drunken Luke, and into the waiting taxi. Castiel gives the driver his address while sneaking a hand up under Dean’s shirt.

They are nearly to their homes when the cabbie smacks his hand on the wheel. “I knew I recognized you two.”

Dean looks up from where he was mentally planning how to mark up Castiel’s neck and regards their driver. “Oh shit.”

It’s the same cabbie that had witnessed him being a bumbling teen in front of Cas not two weeks ago. “I take it back. Apparently you _are_ velvety smooth. Good work.”

“Huh?” Castiel asks in adorable, drunken confusion.

“It’s-uh-he-nevermind,” Dean stutters before laying a wet kiss right under Castiel’s perfect ear. He can hear the cabbie’s chuckle.

Finally they pull up on curb, only this time it’s in front of Castiel’s building. Dean gives the appropriate amount of money to his friend, the taxi driver, and waves him off.

Castiel still has a hold on Dean’s hand, and it’s sending warm tingles down to his toes.

“Dean,” Castiel says in his serious voice. “I’d like you to come upstairs with me.”

At Castiel’s confession Dean smiles softly. “I’d like that a lot, baby. But nothing has to happen. I told you. ‘M not gonna mess this,” he gestures between them with his free hand, “up. Not gonna.”

Castiel just kisses him. “I know.”

Then Dean is being led upstairs to an apartment that he has seen many times, but never thought he would be in. Once they are inside it doesn’t take long for Castiel to lead them to his bedroom. The pair quickly slide out of their workout clothes until they are both clothed in only their boxer briefs and climb into Castiel’s large bed.

It takes some adjusting and wiggling and a near catastrophic incident with a knee in a delicate place before they are comfortable laying on their sides facing each other.

Dean’s buzz has gone down enough that he starts to feel nervous. He only hopes Castiel doesn’t notice the subtle shaking of his hands.

They lay in silence, not quite ready to speak but not wanting to go to sleep yet either. It is broken when Castiel closes the minuscule distance between them and kisses Dean deeply.

It takes about a second for the heat from earlier to return, and Dean soon finds himself rolling on top of his lover. He rolls his hips down, loving the friction the thin layer of cotton offers. Castiel moans into his mouth and Dean hungrily eats it up. He moves his hips down again, and again, and again, until they are both hard as granite. He can feel where his cock is leaking into the fabric of his boxers.

He separates himself from Castiel’s mouth and moves down to the man’s neck. He licks and bites and sucks until there is a lovely array of his marks in the tanned skin.

Suddenly he remembers his promise from before.

“Nngh, Cas. Baby, I want to make come. Please,” Dean moans as he pauses the movements of his hips.

“Yes, Dean, I want that too.” Those are some of the best words Dean has ever heard.

He leans over his lover to the bedside table and flicks on the lamp. Light bursts into the room and Dean is shocked that the sight of Castiel nearly undone beneath him doesn’t make him blow his load right then.

“I wanna see you.” Castiel nods. Dean smiles as he sits up, and the blanket falls away behind him.

What seems like miles of tattoo’d skin is finally there for him to see and touch and taste. One of his arms is covered in vines and other exotic greenery leading to his chest and down to where a large tree sits, covering nearly his entire flank. The opposite side is lighter with columns of white smoke that seems to bend and flow together, like some bizarre dance.

Dean bends down to lick along the man’s chest, loving the moans he is pulling from his lover. After a minute he shifts his weight so Castiel has room to maneuver. “Roll over, Cas. I wanna see everything.” And Castiel does.

What Dean finds is unlike anything he could have imagined. He was right, it’s a huge back piece. They’re wings. Huge wings that cover his spine and twist onto his biceps. One is fluffy and pure. Untouched black feathers run smooth. The other is dark, and haunting. It’s more similar to a bat’s wing. But still so beautiful.

“Holy Shit, Cas. This is incredible,” he moans as he runs his fingers over the smooth flesh. They’re so lifelike that Dean is surprised he doesn’t feel the softness of the feathers.

“Every one of us has a little bit of an angel and a devil within us,” Castiel explains. His voice is breathy and Dean likes it almost as much as when he gets deep and rumbly.

“I know you’re tryin’ to talk but all I can think about is how fuckin’ perfect you are,” Dean says in reply.

Castiel huffs a laugh that turns into a moan as Dean’s lips descent on his skin. Dean covers all of the tattoo’d flesh with his tongue, slowly making his way down to the waistband of his boxers. Castiel doesn’t need prompting and lifts his hips all on his own so Dean can remove the fabric. Dean immediately sees the butterfly tattoo Castiel talked about on their first date and gives it a playful bite. The man under him shifts, pushing his pert little ass closer to Dean’s face. “Pushy,” he jokes.

Then, before Castiel can retort, he spreads the man’s cheeks and licks a long stripe from taint to tailbone.

Castiel let’s out a fucking gorgeous moan and Dean takes that as encouragement to continue. He licks and circles the ring of muscle with his tongue until it’s wet and then he presses his tongue in. The dark haired man has his hands fisted in the sheets and is pressing equally back onto Dean’s tongue and forward into the mattress.

Dean is so hard he feel like any touch at all could set him off but he ignores himself in favor of making Castiel writhe a little more.

A hand reaches back and fists in his hair, making it impossible to move. Not like he’d ever want to.

“Oh fuck. Dean. Dean, I’m right there. Uh-more,” Castiel moans.

Dean can do nothing but oblige and maneuver a hand under Castiel to reach for his neglected cock. He stalls when the hand in his hair tightens. “No. Not there. In me. Want you in me.”

His hand changes direction and instead moves to press along with his tongue into Castiel’s hole. “Yes! You’re incredible. Feels so good.”

Dean’s dick is leaking all over, and Castiel’s constant moans of praise do nothing but make it drip even more.

As much as he enjoys watching Castiel fuck himself back on Dean’s own tongue, what he really wants to see is the man come undone. Quickly he removes his tongue and his finger, flips the other man so he is on his back, and dives back in.

Castiel’s legs fall on either of Dean’s shoulders and he can feel the muscles tremble. While his finger continues to stimulate him inside, hitting his prostate at every other press, his tongue moves from inside his hole. Without taking his eyes off Castiel’s wrecked face he licks from his fingers, past his taint, over his tightly drawn balls, up the length of his cock when he finally swallows the appendage down.

“Oh holy mother of God. Fuck. Dean. You’re mouth. You’re fucking perfect,” Castiel practically screams as he empties his load into Dean’s mouth. He’s barely finished before he hauls Dean up and kisses him. One hand goes to the back of his neck while the other reaches into his boxers. Where he is met with the sticky substance of Dean’s own orgasm. “Dean. You’re beautiful.”

“Takes one to know one, gorgeous,” Dean drawls contentedly. Their kisses slow down and the two tangle their limbs as they slowly fall into a happy sleep.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dean wakes slowly.

He feels the weight and warmth of a warm body around him and smiles. He doesn’t open his eyes yet. He is just content to run his hands lightly over the expanse of skin available to him. The body above and around him seems to purr under his fingertips and burrow deeper into him.

Finally Dean opens his eyes.

The room is bathed in early morning light, giving everything an ethereal glow. Castiel’s sheets, which Dean can tell now are a steel gray color, are tangled around their hips. The man’s dark haired head rests on Dean’s chest, rising and falling with every breath. Their legs are knotted together. The course hair of the other man leg tickles the sensitive skin of Dean calf.

It’s weird.

But perfect.

Carefully Dean uses a finger to tilt his companions chin up. Castiel’s dark lashes are resting prettily against his cheeks and there is a slight smile on his lips. They’re too tempting and Dean can’t even think about resisting. He presses his lips to Castiel’s.

Damn. He could get used to this.

When Castiel wakes up enough to return the kiss he wastes no time in deepening it. Morning breath and all.

“Mornin’ Cas,” Dean whispers once they've separated.

“Good Morning Dean,” Castiel replies. He moves his free hand and tickles it up and down Dean’s side. “How does some breakfast sound?”

“That sounds awesome,” Dean says with a smile. Castiel returns it and gives Dean one more kiss before slipping out from under the sheets. Dean has a moment to appreciate the sight of his perfect back and the shape of his ass as he slips out of the room before he hears the beeping of his cell phone. He leans over the bed and fumbles around for his jeans. When he finds them he pulls the chirping device from within it’s pockets.

Dean doesn’t literally face-palm, but he wants to. In his haze of sex and Castiel-induced good feelings he completely forgot that he swore to his brother that they would meet up. Sam and Dean both led busy lives, what with work and school, and it was hard to find a day they both had off together. And this day just had to be it. Dean can hear Castiel knocking around in the kitchen and feels a real life pout pull at his lips.

Is it too much to want to have breakfast with his brother and have hot sex with a guy he really likes?

Dean trudges out of bed, figuring he has to let Castiel know that their (potentially kinky) breakfast is off, and walks in the direction of the kitchen. It’s the one room in the apartment that Dean hasn’t seen but he has a vague sense of where it should be. Once he finds it he is greeted with the downright sinful sight of the back of Castiel’s naked body as he swings his hips and sings off-key to a song he must have stuck in his head.

He leans his shoulder against the door jam and just watches. Dean has never felt this kind of contentment just _being_ with anyone before. He’s had other boyfriends and girlfriends, but they had always just felt like a stepping stone; like someone who was just there for Dean to pass over on his way towards _something_.

The realization that that thing could have been Castiel all along feels like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head. It’s shocking, but refreshing and exhilarating. Without taking his eyes off of Castiel Dean pulls out his phone and opens Sam’s message.

He hits send and places his phone on the nearest flat surface and walks towards his… boyfriend? Yeah, Dean thinks they can be considered boyfriends. He just hope Castiel agrees. Dean slides up right behind the dark-haired man and wraps his arms around the other man’s waist. His hands skim over the sharp points of his hip bones and slide up to his pectorals. His pelvis fits comfortably into the crease of Castiel’s ass and his dick stirs. Castiel must feel it, because he lets out a throaty chuckle and presses back just slightly.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean asks as he places quick kisses to the demonic side of Castiel’s tattoo.

“Hmm?” Castiel humms.

“Would you like to be my boyfriend?” Dean speaks the words into the flesh of Castiel’s shoulder, nervous of the other man’s reaction.

He doesn’t have to worry, though. Castiel spins in his arms and places a kiss directly to Dean’s waiting lips. When he pulls away there is a wide grin on his face and his cheeks are ruddier that normal. “I would like nothing more, Dean.”

Dean feels like his smile is going to crack his face in two as he surges back in for another hair-raising kiss. His dick is fully on board now, and he can feel Castiel harden against him. Quickly the kisses turn to them just moaning into each others mouths as they rut against each other against the kitchen counter.

Castiel slips a hand between them and wraps his palm against both of their cocks. The channel is slippery from their combined precome and Dean moans again, loud and deep. “I’ve been dreaming about getting your dick in my hand since I first saw you,” he breaths into Dean’s ear. “It’s better than I could have even imagined. I cannot even wait to feel it inside of me. I bet you know how to make me scream, don’t you Dean?”

Dean shudders and pistons his hips up faster and harder. “Fuck, Cas,” he whines.

Seconds later he groans and comes over Castiel’s hand with the other man following right after. Dean catches Castiel’s wrist before he can rinse it off in the nearby sink and lifts it to his lips. He catches his boyfriends eye while he sucks one of the messy fingers into his mouth. He pulls off with a sloppy pop and offers it to the other man. Castiel licks a different finger clean before Dean pulls it away.

Together they clean Castiel’s hand until it’s shiny with spit instead of come. “I will admit that is not what I had in mind when I suggested breakfast.”

Dean laughs and wraps his arms around Castiel’s waist. “It’s loaded with protein though, right?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Castiel replies with a grin. “Now, I don’t have much here but I should have enough to make omelettes.”

Naked omelettes sound like a great idea to Dean, but then he remembers his promise to Sam. “I actually have another idea. What do you say we go out with my brother? I’d really like you to meet ‘im.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Castiel says with a smile that Dean returns. With a hop and a shake of his ass Dean retrieves his phone and is shocked to see that he has missed a number of texts from his brother. He giggles as he reads them, then shows them to Castiel.

“Whoops. But I mean, he can’t blame me,” Dean says through his chuckles as he smacks his boyfriend playfully on the ass.

Castiel just grins, kisses him, and grinds his soft cock against Dean’s. “Come on, Dean. Time to get dressed and meet your brother.” Dean ducks down to snatch his lips in another kiss but Castiel dips out of the way and walks back to his bedroom.

“Tease!” Dean calls after him as he sends one last message to his brother.

Dean puts his phone back down on the counter and follows Castiel into his bedroom. The other man is standing in front of his closet in nothing but socks and tight blue boxer briefs with a frown on his face. “What’s with the sour milk face, Cas?”

Blue eyes look over at him and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Do I need to dress up? How does one dress to impress his boyfriends brother?”

Dean’s heart gets a little happy when he hears Castiel call him his boyfriend, then realizes what exactly he’s asking. “Dude. My brother wears plaid three-hundred and sixty-two days of the year. You don’t got to work to impress him.” He slides up and mimics his earlier position; flush against his back, arms around his waist. “Besides, anything you put on will look fuckin’ hot and I’ll wanna rip it off all the same.”

“You are not helping,” Castiel groans.

Dean untangles himself from around his boyfriend and gives him a quick kiss. “I swear, baby, anything is fine.” To prove his point Dean reaches into the other man’s closet and pulls out a white henley and a pair of folded dark gray jeans. “Here, this is perfect.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says earnestly. “Now go away. You’re too distracting.”

Dean laughs but complies. He picks up his clothes from last night and wrinkles his nose at them. Not only are they workout clothes, but they are also sweaty and full of come. “Hey baby do you mind if I borrow some stuff?” Dean asks his boyfriend who had disappeared into the bathroom.

He hears a muffled, “Of course,” in reply and searches for a pair of jeans that will hopefully fit his bulkier frame. He finds a pair near the back. They’re still tight, but in an intentional way. Next his pulls a worn out maroon t-shirt with ‘Chicago Tattoo Convention’ printed on the front. He slips the garment over his head just as Castiel opens the bathroom door.

As Dean expected, the man look like pure sex and he kind of hates his brother for wanting to spend time with him. Cause he would much rather rip the clothes from his boyfriends lithe body and open him up nice and slow until he’s screaming and them sink balls deep into the warm wet heat of the other man’s perfect ass and fuck in hard until the headboard is banging against the wall and he’s screaming Dean, DEAN…

“Dean!”

Dean shakes himself out of the fantasy to see that Castiel is much closer now and watching him with a sexy smirk on his lips. Then a hand is cupping his hard-on through his borrowed jeans and he whimpers.

“What were you thinking about?” Castiel asks as he kneads Dean’s cock.

“You,” Dean answers simply. He couldn’t say more if he tried because all of the blood in his brain is quickly traveling down to his dick. “And what I want to do to you later.”

Castiel hums and gives Dean’s cock one final squeeze before withdrawing his hand, much to Dean’s dismay. “Bet it’s going to be amazing. But we can’t leave your brother waiting.”

“Ugh, Cas!” Dean groans, but there is no changing Castiel’s mind. With a scowl Dean adjusts his hard on and follows Castiel out of the apartment. They decided to walk to the restaurant, since the brother’s usual diner is only a few blocks away. When Castiel reaches out to interlock their fingers as soon as they get off the elevator Dean can’t help but beam.

Yeah, this is definitely something Dean wants to keep doing.

They joke and push each other playfully as they walk, and Castiel has a gummy smile on his face that Dean knows matches his own. Soon the Plainsboro Cafe comes into view and Dean can already see his huge lump of a baby brother at one of the booths by the window. “See that guy there?” Dean asks as he points at the long-haired giant. Castiel nods. “That’s my little brother.”

“Little brother? Are you sure?” Castiel jokes.

“Shuddup,” Dean grumbles back.

They’re still laughing as they push open the door and approach Sam’s table. For what it’s worth, Sam doesn’t seem too shocked to see Dean with Castiel beside him. Or if he is shocked he hides it well.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean says with a smile as he pulls his brother up and into a tight hug. “How are ya?”

“I’m good, Dean,” Sam laughs into Dean’s shoulder. “Who’s this?” He asks with a smile when he pulls away.

“Sammy, this is Castiel, my boyfriend.” Sam’s eyes widen but he composes himself quickly and holds out a hand.

“Wow, this is… wow. Nice to meet you, man,” Sam rambles.

Castiel takes it in stride and shakes the offered hand. “Likewise, Sam. You seem surprised.”

“Yeah, well, kinda. I mean, I’m just not used to meeting my brother’s, uh, partners, is all.” God help him, Sam is still rambling.

“Alright, Sammy. Unclench, will ya? Cas’ special, let’s leave it at that.” Without another word Dean sinks into the booth, pulling Castiel in with him by the hand. They end up sitting closer together than Dean normally would with anyone in front of his brother. But he is so beyond caring because Castiel _is_ special.

“So, uh, how’d you two meet?” Sam asks once their waitress stops by give them menus and some hot coffee.

“Dean attempted to steal my cab,” Castiel explains. “And he’s quite cute when he’s embarrassed.”

“Dude!” Dean squawks.

“What? It’s the truth, Dean,” Castiel says stoically. Then after a beat he breaks into a grin.

“Not. Cool,” Dean replies petulantly.

Sam is watching the interaction with a smile on his face. One that says he’s happy for his brother and a little grossed out in equal measure. When their waitress, Krissy, returns she has her menu pad out and a tired smile on her face. “What can I get you guys this morning?”

Sam orders something called a _petit parfait_ which Dean sneers at. Just to get back at his brother he orders the greasiest monstrosity on the menu. Sam mimics the sneer. Castiel can’t help but laugh at the two as he orders a burger. Once Kirssy has left to put on their order, Dean turns to his boyfriend. “A burger, babe? Really? It’s nine o’clock in the morning.”

“What can I say? I like a lot of meat,” Castiel replies quietly, so only Dean can hear.

His blush, however, gives himself away and Sam groans. “You two are gross,” he whines with his little brother voice that Dean has missed over the last few months.

“Just payback for all the romantic, gooey crap I’ve had to hear you and Jess spew at each other,” Dean replies.

The ribbing continues between the brothers and they joke back and forth at such a fast speed that Castiel has a hard time following. Dean just shoots him small smiles every once and a while. His boyfriend seems to be enjoying himself at least, as he watches and sips his coffee. Dean rests his right arm around the other man’s shoulders and pulls him in close, placing a kiss to his temple.

It’s such a sincere, gentle gesture and he can see Sam watching them with a fond smile. Dean knows he’s in for chick-flick moment as soon as Castiel leaves the table.

Which ends up happening sooner than he was expecting when Castiel’s phone rings. “It’s my brother. He’s alone at the shop today,” the man explains as he stands. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Sam doesn’t even wait until Castiel is outside to turn to Dean with his sappiest puppy-eyed expression. Dean just rolls his eyes and holds out his hands. “Alright, Sammy. Come out with it.”

“What do you mean? Can’t I just be happy for my brother?” Sam asks without changing his facial expression.

“You can be, but there’s generally a catch.” Dean shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of coffee.

“Not this time, Dean,” Sam says with a fond smile. “You said it yourself. Cas seems different. I’ve never seen you like this. And that makes me happy.”

Dean can feel a blush on his cheeks. “Thanks, man.”

The brothers’ conversation is cut short when Castiel reappears. The man runs a hand through his hair and drops down into his seat, not even thinking before dropping his head onto Dean’s shoulder. “I apologize. Ezekiel misplaced one of out tattoo guns. He forgot that I had taken it home to fix a faulty wire.”

“No problem, babe,” Dean told his boyfriend with a smile.

“Where do you work?” Sam asked, and like that the interrogation began.

It was almost uncanny how well Castiel and Sam got along, and Dean couldn’t be happier. His previous partners had liked Sam and vise versa, but it had never been anything like this. At times it seemed like they were the old friends and Dean was the outsider. They joked about having older brothers and Sam regaled them with stories about Jess.

Krissy stops by intermittently to refill their coffees and drop off their breakfast, then later a few pieces of pie. Nearly an hour and a half after arriving the three are ready to leave. They pay their bill and left a sizable tip for Krissy, who seems grateful, before making their way out of the diner together. Sam says goodbye to his brother with a tight hug, then surprisingly pulls Castiel in for one as well.

Sam finally gives the two a jaunty wave and bounces over to his Charger. Dean and Castiel watch him go, hand in hand.

“Would you like to come back to my place now, Dean?” Castiel asks as he gives the other mans palm a squeeze.

“Yeah, that sounds awesome.” Dean bends down to give Castiel a quick kiss, then practically jogs back towards the other man’s apartment. Once they are at the door they practically collide with a tall gangly man who shouts a greeting to the two. Castiel waves as the elevator door closes, but is quickly distracted by Dean’s lips at his neck.

They make it to the apartment door without much public indecency. Castiel has to push Dean away long enough to unlock the door, but once they are inside all bets are off. Dean finds himself pushed against the door with Castiel’s glorious tongue shoved practically to his tonsils.

“Cas! Mmm, bed, or couch, I’m not picky,” Dean manages to groan between kisses. Castiel doesn’t seem to care, as he continues to to kiss any skin available to him.

Dean takes matter into his own hands and twists them, so Castiel’s back to pressed against the wood. He takes it a step forward by bending his knees to get leverage and lifting Castiel up. Automatically the other man’s legs wrap around his waist. With arms braced underneath the man’s ass Dean walks them backwards then unceremoniously dumps his boyfriend on his black leather couch.

The dark haired man bounced a few times before settling down, with Dean looking down at him like a meal. Slowly Dean reaches for the hem of his lovers henley and raises it, until he can drop the garment at his feet. Next he drops down to his knees and, one at a time, removes Castiel’s shoes and socks. He drops a kiss to each insole before placing them back on the floor.

Castiel reaches out to run his fingers though Dean’s hair and strokes his bottom lip with a thumb. “I can’t believe you’re here, with me.”

“No place else I’d rather be, baby,” Dean smiles as he kisses his boyfriends palm and reaches for the button-fly of his jeans. He pulls both them and his boxer briefs down in one motion, and just like that Castiel is naked in front of him.

Dean presses forward to press a single kiss to the head of the other man’s stiff cock, then his stomach, nipples, neck and finally his lips. Castiel moans against him and Dean revels in it.

This, here, is quickly becoming his heaven.

“You know what I wanna do to you?” Dean asks against the other man’s lips.

“What?” Castiel’s voice is a barely controlled moan. “First, I wanna take you apart with my fingers,” he dances said fingers up and down Castiel’s thighs, “and my mouth. I want to make you feel so good. Then, when you’re all loose and happy I’m going to take you apart all over again. Think that sounds good, sweetheart?”

Castiel nods, and that’s Dean’s green light.

He spends some time lavishing Castiel’s perfect mouth. He could honestly spend his whole life doing just this, but tonight he has other plans.

His left hand goes to his boyfriends cock, while his right ventures further and circles his hole with a single finger. “Lube?” He asks as he presses just slightly against the muscle.

“Side table. Condoms are in there too,” Castiel manages to tell him.

Dean finds the supplies quickly and lubes up the fingers of his right hand. His mouth finally leaves his boyfriends and travels down to where his hand has been stroking the other mans cocks.

It really is one of the best he’s ever seen.

He looks up to catch Castiel’s eye and then sucks the organ down. Castiel throws his head back and moans. The sound makes Dean smile, but doesn’t distract him from his mission. While his mouth pays attention to the dick in his face, he pushes one finger into the man’s ass. He only goes in to the first knuckle, but the reaction is almost instantaneous. Castiel moans and a splash of precise hits Dean’s tongue.

It doesn’t take long until he has a whole finger in and Castiel is fucking down onto it with abandon. Both of his feet have migrated from the floor to the coffee table, boxing Dean in between his strong thighs.

“Dean, more!”

What is Dean to do but oblige him? He adds a second finger and Castiel’s cock, if possible, gets even harder. Pretty soon he is thrusting up into the heat of Dean’s mouth and then back down on his fingers.

“I’m so close. Fuck, Dean, I’m going to-” He doesn’t even finish his sentence before he comes and floods Dean’s mouth with spunk. Like a pro, Dean swallows it all. When Castiel begins to grow soft, Dean pulls away.

“That good, baby?” Without waiting for a response Dean quirks his fingers that are still within Castiel’s body, and presses directly on his prostate. “Cause I’m not done yet. Think you can get hard for me again and come on just my cock?”

Castiel moans. “Oh, yes, Dean. Please.”

Dean grins and kisses his boyfriend.

Then he adds a third finger. Castiel’s cock gives a valiant jump when Dean’s fingers assault his already sensitive prostate.

By the time Dean adds his fourth finger to the mix Castiel is panting and moaning and almost to full hardness again.

“So good for me,” Dean compliments as he presses kisses to his boyfriends chest.

“I’m ready Dean. Please,” Castiel moans. Dean agrees and withdraws his fingers. He barely has time to register Castiel moving before his boyfriend has turned his body so his chest is pressed against the back of couch and his wet hole is on full display. And one of his own fingers is reaching around to take the place of Dean’s.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean moans.

Dean has never gotten undressed quicker. He practically rips off his t-shirt and shoves his pants down to his knees. Then he is slipping on a condom, lubing himself up, and crawling onto his knees behind his boyfriend. He practically slaps Castiel’s hand away, then grips his hips and presses the head of his cock against Castiel’s hole. “Ready?”

Castiel doesn’t answer verbally. He just presses back until his hole is swallowing Dean’s cock. That breaks Dean’s control and he thrusts the rest of the way in.

“Oh God, Cas. Fuck. Holy shit,” Dean moans as his thrusts gain momentum. Beneath him Castiel is a sobbing mess, as he presses back every time Dean pressed forward. Every time Dean hits his prostate he screams until his voice is hoarser than ever.

Dean is so close. His orgasm is rushing at him like a train, but he doesn’t want to come until Castiel is right there with him. “Baby. Can you come for me? I’m so close.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Dean, oh fuck, I’m right there,” Castiel says through gritted teeth.

Dean widens his stance and Castiel practically wails as the new position allows him to drill the dark haired man’s prostate. Then Dean can feel Castiel’s ass clench around his cock as he comes and Dean follows right after. It is the best orgasm he has ever had, hands down, and Castiel seems to agree if his sated sigh is anything to go by.

Slowly he pulls out, and ties off the condom. He drops it on the floor, sits on the couch and pulls Castiel to his chest.

The two men trade sleepy kisses while Dean runs his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair.

It could be two minutes or two hours later when Castiel finally breaks the silence.

“I have a confession,” he says quietly.

“Hmm?” Dean replies sleepily.

“I could see you, across the street, watching me.”

In an instant Dean is awake and staring down at Castiel.

The other man is smiling.

“What?” Dean stammers.

“I liked that you watched me,” Castiel admits. “It made me feel good. Desired. I wanted to see if I could push your buttons. Then you tried to steal my cab and everything changed. I realized that I didn’t just want the attractive man who got off watching me. I wanted you. I still want you.”

Dean’s face feels impossibly red as he gazes down at the other man. “You knew? This whole time?”

Castiel shrugs and nuzzles deeper into Dean’s side. “Yeah, I knew.”

“And you don’t think it’s weird? That I got off on watching?” Dean can’t help but ask.

Castiel presses a kiss to Dean sternum and laughs. “No, Dean. Because I got off on being watched.”

* * *

Six Months Later…

The last of the boxes are packed. Sam is busy taking a final load to Goodwill, and Dean is indulging in one of his favorite things about the apartment.

“ _What now, Dean?_ ” Castiel’s voice asks through the phone speaker.

Dean is leaning against his balcony, one hand holding the phone to his ear and the other lazily stroking his cock.

Across the street is his boyfriend, spread out across his couch so everything is on display for Dean. Currently he is just teasing his nipples while his dick sits neglected against his stomach.

“Suck on your fingers, get them nice and wet for me,” Dean instructs. He watches as Castiel complies immediately. “You’re so good for me. Are they wet enough?”

“ _Yes, Dean. Please, I need more._ ”

“I know, baby,” Dean coos. “You can finger your hole now, but slowly. I don’t want you to get off. Just get yourself nice and open for me to fuck later, can you do that?”

Castiel’s moans drift through the speaker and Dean picks up his strokes.

“ _Dean, God, I’m close._ ”

“I know. You’re so beautiful like this,” Dean compliments. He still cannot believe that he get’s to have this man all to himself. Sometimes he’s afraid that he’ll wake up and it will all be a dream but every morning he wakes up with Castiel in his arms and he thanks whoever’s out there that it’s not. “But don’t come yet, okay?”

“ _If I can’t then you can’t either, Dean._ ” Only Castiel can still sounds commanding when he has two fingers in his ass.

“Of course. Saving all my love for you, babe,” Dean says as he extracts his hand from his pants. “I’m runnin’ over now. You ready for me?”

“ _Yes, so ready,_ ” Castiel whines as he adds a third finger. “ _You better be here soon or I’ll finish without you._ ”

“No you won’t,” Dean says as he zips his pants and runs out of the door.

He can hear Castiel’s hearty chuckle and takes the stairs two at a time as he races towards it. “ _Mmm, Dean. Hurry, please._ ”

“Fuck, fuck,” Dean huffs. He checks both ways before crossing the street and uses his new key to get into Castiel’s building. He nearly barrels Garth over in the lobby, but doesn’t have time to apologize. His neighbor doesn’t seem to mind. He lives next door to Castiel and is used to their antics.

“ _Dean, I need you. Need your cock._ ”

“I’m comin’ man. Shit.” Dean’s in the elevator and doesn’t wait to unzip his pants again. The door opens on Castiel’s floor and Dean kicks off his shoes as he crosses the hallway and throws open Castiel’s door.

The man is still on the couch with four fingers pumping in and out of himself. Dean wastes no time in coating his hand in the lube that sits on the side table and slicking himself up. Then he rearranges Castiel how he wants him, on his back so they can look into each others eyes, and thrusts in.

“Fuck, Cas. I love you so freakin’ much,” Dean says with a smile as he kisses his boyfriend.

“I love you too, Dean. With everything I have,” Castiel replies.

Dean will never get over hearing those words. He continues to shower love and affection on the man beneath him as he hurries his thrusts. He knows Castiel’s body well enough to know the other man is close. Only a handful more thrusts and they are both coming hard.

As their breathing returns to normal Dean settles down, nuzzling his boyfriends chest.

“What are we gonna do now? Without the other apartment?” He asks as he fingers Castiel’s perky nipple.

Castiel just laughs. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”


End file.
